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This chapter was going to jump straight to the Merger but I couldn't resist exploring the phone call from The Initiation first.
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Chapter Two: The Initiation
~
Every time she notes down something Michael does, she looks up across the office and thinks about how funny this day could have been.
She's been trying to avoid looking at his old desk as much as possible. Sometimes when she keeps her head down long enough she starts to think that the vague person just out of her immediate eyeline could be him. She starts to think that she didn't really turn him down. She didn't really break his heart. Inevitably she has to look up eventually and when she sees dark hair she thinks that the suffocating feeling might be her own heart breaking. She hates that she can't fix this.
There's a post it note stuck to the underside of her desk. About once a week she plucks it off and stares at it. Sometimes she picks up her phone and starts to input the numbers. On a good day she gets all the way to the second to last digit. She never makes it all the way to Stamford. She's developed an unhealthy hatred for the number nine. It's easier than hating herself.
Her Michael-log complete, she faxes a copy to Jan and shuts her computer down. She doesn't know why she answers the phone. Habit, probably.
"Uh..hey."
"Oh my god."
She's never been more pleased to have answered the Dunder Mifflin Scranton telephone. She's never been more scared.
He's saying something about fantasy football and it's awkard and wierd but suddenly nothing in the world is more important than keeping him talking.
"Everything's pretty much the same here ... a little different." She lies.
Everything is different. She's got her own car, her own place and she's started working on having her own life. She misses him. Some days she hates him for running away. Some days she hates herself for letting him. She thinks about driving to Stamford a lot. She hates the number nine.
"What time is it there?"
"We're in the same time zone."
He sounds almost amused. She doesn't think it's funny. Not much is these days.
She's scared and and it's late and she tells herself that over the phone really isn't the best way to tell him that she wants him to come home.
She thinks if she can just tell him a tiny part of the truth it might be a start.
"It felt far."
It didn't feel like all that was separating them was the number nine and the memory of that terrible night. It felt like oceans and continents and various other insurmountable obstacles and she'd started to think she'd never speak to him again.
"Yeah."
It doesn't feel so far anymore. His voice is in her ear and somehow she's warm all over. She can almost see him at his desk, or leaning on hers.
He sounds just like she remembers he does at the end of the day, tired and gravelly. Lately she's been so afraid of forgetting him, so terrified that the Jim in her head and the Jim out there in the world without her might be getting further apart. The Jim she remembers is warm and funny and kind and everything she ever wanted. She's been telling herself it's an idealised memory, born out of the separation and the distance. She's been searching for a memory that might suggest he's not perfect for her. She hasn't found it yet.
The Jim on the phone is warm and funny and she knows, she just knows that she shouldn't have let him leave. The timing was off, the wedding was near and she couldn't have fallen into his arms like he wanted (she wanted). But she knows he shouldn't be talking to her from Stamford right now. She knows today should have been hilarious.
"How many words per minute does the average person type?"
Within a few minutes it's comfortable and familiar and for the first time in a long time she sits back in her chair at Reception and laughs. Really laughs.
She tells him all the things that she's kept stored away in a corner of her brain for him, just in case.
She has a suspicion he might be doing the same thing.
"So I'm watching the movie by myself."
She thinks of all the endings to that sentence. Because I left Roy. Because my best friend told me he loved me. Because I have my own apartment now and I'm trying to be my own person as well.
She sighs and thinks, just ask. Please ask. (Hello)
He doesn't. (Goodbye)
She knows it's up to her to say something. But right now, lounging back on her chair with his voice in her ear and his laughter tumbling down her phone line she just can't. She can't bring herself to do anything that might make this phone call end.
"Oh yeah my fancy new apartment. I have one bedroom, one bathroom and a closet."
"And how many kitchens?"
"I have one kitchen."
He makes her laugh about multiple kitchens and she's so grateful. Grateful because when she sits in her one kitchen tonight, she'll think of him. She won't think of when she tripped decorating, spilt paint all down herself and ended up sitting on the cold tile floor, crying because it could have been hilarious and it just wasn't.
Ryan and Dwight arrive.
Just as she's starting to think that this could go on all night, just as the idea is formulating to offer him her home phone number and tell him to call her later because they really need to continue this conversation, Dwight and Ryan arrive. Of course, she thinks bitterly, of course.
Ryan looks wierd and it's only polite to ask. Even though she hates him a little bit right now for interrupting. Hates him for gathering his stuff from Jim's desk (she thinks she'll always call it that) and shattering her little fantasy that the voice on the phone was just a few paces away from her, like he used to be. Like he should be.
"Ok, bye."
She says it quickly, glad Ryan doesn't seem to be hanging around.
"Oh yeah, I should ... I should probably ... I should probably go, too."
She internally hurls a few of the sort of curse words she's never used aloud.
She knows what he thinks 'Ok, bye' means. (Goodbye)
She knows what she's been trying to say. (Hello)
But now it's awkward again and everything ends all too quickly.
She thinks he sounds disappointed but she's too flustered and annoyed at herself to be sure. She starts to think maybe it's all just been wishful thinking.
"Bye Jim."
She prays that's not as final as it sounds.
At home, she searches through her one closet and finds something more comfortable to wear. She wishes she hadn't thrown that periwinkle dress away. It reminded her of everything that went wrong. But it smelled like him.
Ignoring the stab of loneliness, she hurries into her one kitchen and finds herself quietly laughing. He's still a hundred miles away but tonight his voice is reverberating around her head, making her laugh. Like always.
He feels a lot closer than before.
~
He's a coward and it's not the sudden move to Stamford that makes him think that. He's still telling himself that he was brave, that it was the right thing to do. It's the fact that he's been meaning to call Kevin all day. It's that it's way past five thirty when he finally decides it's safe to risk it.
"Dunder Mifflin."
"Uh..hey."
He's not sure whether resisting the urge to hang up is courage or weakness. He doesn't care.
She tells him about making some list of things Michael does and he smiles. He thinks they would have had fun with that. Before.
"Everything's the same here ... a little different."
He wants to ask if by a little different she means that she left her fiance of ten years and got her own apartment and didn't tell her ex best friend because he admitted to being in love with her and kissed her and ran away. He's too afraid.
"We're in the same time zone. How far away did you think we were?"
"I don't know. It felt far."
He doesn't know what to say. He wants to say that it's not that far. He wants to say that it's not that far but even if it was, if she would just ask him he'd come home to her. He wants to say that it's not that far but he knows exactly what she means. It feels far. He's been worried about the distance, about forgetting her. Sometimes it's his most fervent wish. Most of the time it's his worst nightmare.
He's hurting all over. He hates that she can still do this to him. He can't lie to her.
"Yeah."
He rubs his eyes and thinks about wrapping this conversation up. He thinks about staying.
She wins. She still wins. (She'll always win).
He thinks he'll give her a chance.
"How many words per minute does the average person type?"
He knows it should feel like a setback when he leans back and starts to make her laugh. It doesn't. For a few minutes (that turns into an hour) it feels good to put his feet up and be her Jim. Every day in Stamford feels like an effort. Talking to her hurts but making her laugh still feels like the easiest thing in the world.
She tells him some stories and he wonders if she's been saving them for him. He's been doing that. It made him feel pathetic and lonely but he couldn't break the habit. He's glad he didn't.
"So I'm watching the movie by myself."
He thinks about all the endings to that sentence. Because I left Roy. Because I want to be alone. Because you weren't there to watch it with me.
He sighs and thinks, tell me. Just tell me. (Hello)
She doesn't. (Goodbye)
But he's lonely and she's the one lengthening the call and he just can't kick that habit of hopefulness when it comes to her.
"Fancy New Beesly would make that up."
"You got totally taken for a ride Beesly."
He lets her name roll of his tongue. It's as easy as ever.
He wonders if she'll ever know why he started calling her that. That it was a tiny victory over Roy, a daily reminder that he still had a chance. While she was still Beesly, he was still Halpert.
Now he's trying to find out who he is without her. But she's still Beesly and he doesn't know what that means anymore.
"Ok, bye."
Suddenly it's awkward again and he realises too late that she was talking to someone else. She doesn't rush to explain. He lets her go. He's getting good at that.
He would have talked to her all night. He knows what that means. (Hello)
"Bye Jim." He thinks he knows what that means. (Goodbye)
He goes back to the apartment that doesn't feel like a home and tries not to think about how calling her Beesly still feels like a victory. Still feels like there's a chance.
Tomorrow he'll try harder. Tonight he'll let himself dream.
~
Author's Chapter Notes:
The infamous phone call from the initiation.
She sighs and thinks, just ask. Please ask. (Hello)
He doesn't. (Goodbye)
She sighs and thinks, just ask. Please ask. (Hello)
He doesn't. (Goodbye)
Chapter End Notes:
Quite long I know, but I felt it was important to keep both POVs in the same chapter for the contrasts and similarities to be felt.
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